


Little Hours

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is sleep deprived and Merlin just bought so many snacks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Hours

Merlin did not finish all of his finals work early so he could end up outside in freeze-your-ass-off weather at buttcrack o' clock with a shit ton of shopping bags, humping a wall in full view of the elderly nighttime security guard who was regarding him from his golf cart with a vague sense of mystery. Yeah, that's Merlin, super mysterious guy. Humping a wall in his snowman pajama pants. Watch him go. 

Merlin pinched his face in concentration and with one last thrust, the key fob hooked to the bag at his hip finally registered on the lock and the door opened. The rush of warm air from the stairwell felt amazing, even if it did smell of stewed garbage juice. 

Merlin sighed, shook his hair out, greeted the crude whiteout drawing of a dick on the first step, and started his journey up to the fourth floor. 

Up on the fourth floor, there was an extra long twin sized bed that was not comfortable, but it was a bed, and it was empty. Merlin should have been curled up in it, peacefully snoozing away, maybe drooling a little on the scratchy cotton of his pillowcase while he dreamt of something really weird that would make him go "Whoa, dude," in the morning. But, sadly, instead of sleeping, Merlin was lugging plastic bags of everything edible he could find at the convenience store up an insane amount of stairs that against all hope had not gotten any easier to climb since the beginning of the year. Instead of sleeping, Merlin was playing mother hen to his useless roommate who couldn't meet the basic needs of survival like food, sleep, and not being a fucking dumbass.

Technically, the convenience store grub run was a voluntary mission. But not really. Merlin's soft and noble heart couldn't possibly stand by and watch his roommate's hands shake over his keyboard any longer, and the universe knew that, so Merlin liked to think he was coerced into doing these things, and it just really was not fair. 

Merlin landed at the top of the stairs with no small sense of bitter triumph. All that was left was dragging himself down to the end of the long hall without giving up and leaving his broken, lifeless body by the wall for the cleaning dude to deal with in the morning. But no, he told himself, if anybody's broken, lifeless body was going to end up in the hall it was going to be his roommate's.           

When he got to his door (at the very end of the hall, by the fire escape stairwell that was tragically exit only), Merlin turned the handle with his elbow to find a dark room, lit only by yellow streetlights shining in from the window, and Merlin immediately took back all the angry thoughts he'd been having.           

Arthur Pendragon, poor guy, was slumped over his desk with his face crammed into his folded arms, surrounded by papers and open books and a black-screened laptop. It was always like this with Arthur. He was never one to procrastinate— as far as Merlin knew, Arthur started his assignments as soon as he knew about them, and drove himself mad over them until the grades were posted (and sometimes the madness continued until a  _better_  grade was posted.)  

Papers resulted in a perfect storm of Arthur's special brand of self-sacrificing idiocy and an entire childhood devoted to always falling short of his father's impossible standards. Merlin used to openly wish all sorts of hell upon Uther Pendragon for being so cruel to his own children, until one evening, during dinner, Arthur quietly assured Merlin that Uther was miserable enough without the extra effort, and since then Merlin had mostly shut up about it.           

Arthur had one big research paper due in the morning, and Merlin knew he'd probably been revising his three hundred seventy-fourth rough draft before he ended up asleep at his desk. There were no clear-cut right answers to papers, and Arthur had a difficult time coping with that. Merlin felt sore looking at him. He wanted to drag Arthur over to his bed, tuck him in, and make him sleep for three days straight under threat of death, but if Arthur didn't get his paper to whatever he deemed good enough before it was due, if he didn't feel like he worked as hard on it as he was capable of, he would beat himself up over it for ages and ages and possibly until he died of a stress-induced heart attack at age twenty-four.           

Well, not under Merlin's watch, he wouldn't.           

Merlin laid the bags on the chair by the door that nobody ever sat in because it made humungous fart noises whenever its occupant even breathed too enthusiastically. Merlin's friend Gwaine had named it Gwaine, proclaiming that he was, essentially, a humungous fart noise himself, an opinion with which neither Merlin nor Arthur could disagree, much to Gwaine's delight.           

Merlin hated to do it, but braced himself and flipped the switch for the overhead light. It flooded the room with sickly fluorescent glare and burnt away Merlin's retinas for a few painful seconds.           

Arthur groaned a little but otherwise didn't stir. Merlin made his way through the finals week mess of clothes and papers and plastic cups on the floor and hesitated for only a moment before placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder and giving it a shake. Arthur was really warm and Merlin proudly only thought about what it would be like to snuggle up with him under the covers for a breath or two.           

And then spent another breath imagining how much good it would do Arthur if Merlin gave him a shoulder rub. That would be weird, though. Right? Yeah. Probably.          

Arthur shifted and peered up at him through squinty, sleepy eyes. His voice was rough when he asked, "What time is it?"          

"'Round three-thirty," Merlin said. He watched Arthur's sleep deprived brain try to figure the math out and added, "You haven't been asleep long. I was only out for twenty minutes."           

Arthur seemed to accept that. He rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands and made to wake his laptop back up, but Merlin swatted him away. "No, no, no. It's been like ten years since you ate anything and I froze my ass off to get you some food, and you're going to take a breather and eat it before you pass out and make my life even more unbearable."          

Arthur, for once, didn't seem to feel like arguing. He sighed and stood up from his chair and stretched, creating a symphony of popping joints. He then shuffled to the foot of his bed, and collapsed onto the foam mattress, face first, with a soft  _pffffff_ and an annoyed "Well, get to it then," that was mostly muffled by his pillow.

Merlin rolled his eyes at the back of Arthur's head.

The convenience store really didn't have much in the way of nutrition, but at least Arthur would have something warm and comforting in his stomach, and not just coffee. Merlin was a follower of the sugar and caffeine diet during busy times himself, and it never failed to make him feel like shit. Arthur spent enough time feeling like shit. Merlin could at least help him out with this small thing, with... pre-packaged cookies? Beef jerky? Cheesy Chex mix? Cup noodles?           

"Uh, do you like cup noodles?" he asked, over his shoulder.           

Arthur made some kind of noise. Merlin took it as a "No, but I will eat it. Thank you, Merlin. You are so kind."           

Merlin nodded to himself. "Cool. Beef or chicken?"           

Arthur rolled over with his eyes shut tight and reached a hand toward Merlin. "Chickie."           

Merlin supposed the outstretched hand meant he was to hand the cup to Arthur. He could have done that. He should have done that.           

He did not. Instead, Merlin chucked the cup at Arthur's head, and it hit him right between the eyes with a very satisfying styrofoam thunk. Arthur froze, then slowly lowered his hand and pouted in that dumb way of his. Merlin immediately felt a little bit bad about it in that dumb way of his own.           

"That's for being stupid and making me take care of you," he added, a little late, in an attempt to justify his cruelty.           

Arthur finally opened his eyes and nodded against the pillow. "'Kay. I can accept that," he said, and then stared at the cup that was resting patiently on his chest. "What's this?"           

Ok, wow, Arthur was otherworldly exhausted. Merlin's heart went out to him.           

"This," he said, and made a grab for Arthur's cup noodles, "is cheap and hot and salty and, uh, carb-y. Or, it will be. After I cook it." Merlin poured some water into one of their only microwave safe dishes— a large glass measuring cup with most of the measurements scratched off. "Anyway," he continued, "this is the best you're going to get at three in the morning as far as I'm concerned. And my concern is the only one we're going by here, by the way."           

Arthur nodded once. "Of course." He had an arm slung over his eyes and was scratching at the bit of skin between his bunched up shirt and flannel pants. There was a red impression of an elastic waistband around Arthur's hips and under his belly button. Merlin put the water in the microwave and tried not to think about it.           

He failed.           

It was just— Arthur had an adorable everything, yeah? He was well on his way to becoming a fully-grown and successful man, but everything he did made Merlin want press a pillow against his face and hide a dopey grin in it. Maybe kick his feet a little. It was worse than the crushes he had in high school, for sure, but still better in its own way because for once, Merlin was ok with someone not returning his feelings.           

Though Arthur's goals seemed to amount to not wilting under his father's shadow, Merlin had no doubt Arthur was going to burn bright enough to scorch Uther to nothing. Er, eventually. At that moment, Arthur was kind of like a giant toddler. But Merlin could see the potential, had witnessed it for himself, and would bet everything he had on Arthur, who had big dreams and big connections and put his trust in the good in people before Merlin even bothered to notice it. He was certain Arthur was going to change the world in some fantastic way.           

Merlin just wanted to help him get there.           

The microwave started beeping, and Arthur whined like it was the worst thing he'd ever heard. Merlin sighed, fumes from the delusions of Arthur's grandeur clearing from his mind, and not for the first time, wished he could have developed an unwavering devotion-slash-hopeless crush combo on someone else. Oh, well.           

Merlin carefully poured the hot water into each of the cups, not quite up to the fill line, and covered them so they could rehydrate. The room was quiet while they waited, until Merlin asked, "How much more do you have to do for your paper?"           

Arthur sighed, sat up and slung his legs over the side of the bed, face in his hands. "I don't know, I've been rewriting the damn thing for weeks. It meets the page count requirement, but that's about all that can be said for it."           

"You want me to look over it? I'm sure it's fine, your papers always get ridiculously good grades and, like, little smiley face stickers and stuff." Merlin wiggled his fingers in a "smiley face stickers and stuff" motion.           

"Well, that's just 'cause I work so hard on them, Merlin. You could learn from my example." Arthur said it in a tired version of his haughty teasing voice. Merlin lifted the lid on his noodles to check them and, horrifyingly, felt his face melt into soft gooey fondness usually reserved for photos of chubby puppies and his mother.           

He faced Arthur and put a hand over his heart. "Oh, I can only dream that maybe one day I'll be as nitwitted as the great Arthur Pendragon." 

Arthur threw a balled up sock at his face.           

Merlin laughed and brought the chicken flavored cup noodles to Arthur with a plastic fork, and camped out on his own bed, facing Arthur, to make sure Arthur actually ate.           

They ate in silence, broken by slurpy noodle noises and the sound of a plastic fork scraping against styrofoam. Merlin mentally apologized to his cardiovascular system for all the sodium he was consuming, while simultaneously enjoying the strong salty punch to his taste buds. "Beef" was a loose interpretation of the flavor, but it was good enough.           

Merlin glanced ahead at Arthur, who was half asleep and looked absolutely incredible with a mass of noodles hanging from his mouth. Oh, that was priceless. Merlin snuck his phone out and snapped a quick photo, and thanked the stars that Arthur was too far-gone to notice. He immediately sent it to Arthur's phone, as was customary when one took an unflattering photo of one's friend. He almost set it as his background, but in the end figured a photo of his shoe from when he accidentally dumped banana pudding onto it the first week of class was considerably less strange (and telling) than a photo of his best friend/roommate/crush looking blissed out and borderline post-coital over some cheap fill.             

Arthur finished his noodles before Merlin, and was kind of just... staring at the floor. Merlin had to call his name three times before Arthur responded, looking a little embarrassed once he realized what happened. He really needed some rest.           

Merlin plopped himself at Arthur's desk. "Hey, I'm going to look over your paper, all right?"           

Arthur sighed.  "You're going to tell me it's fine no matter what. I know your games, Merlin. You're just trying to get me into bed." He said it with the slurred voice of the seriously sleep deprived, once they cross into "can't shut up to save their life" territory, and Merlin's eyes widened at the screen. "I'm done working on it. Just print it out, would you? And turn out the light."           

Merlin didn't need to be told twice. He wanted to be asleep, himself. He hit print and let technology do its thing.           

The dark room was a huge relief to his dry, tired eyes once he turned out the light. He was so ready to crawl under the covers. On the way to his bed, though, Arthur shot a hand out from where he was laying and grabbed Merlin's wrist. Merlin only just stopped  himself from snatching it back on reflex, and made some kind of inquisitive noise.           

He heard Arthur swallow, and his grip tightened. "Merlin," he started, then seemed caught on his next words. Merlin waited for him. Arthur sounded small when he finally asked "Why do you always do so much for me?"

Merlin felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and had a hunch that Arthur already knew the answer, despite all his efforts. His heart sped and he felt put on the spot, cold with fear and possibility. 

His mind raced for an answer that wasn't a lie but didn't leave him wide open for hurt ("Because you deserve it?" "Because nobody else will?" "Because I'm an idiot and can't seem to ever find the limits of what I'd do for you?"), but as the seconds ticked on Merlin realized that his panicking told Arthur everything he needed to know. 

Arthur's grip went soft, and Merlin died a lot because then Arthur's thumb started rubbing across the inside of his wrist, back and forth, and he didn't give Merlin anything but that. Merlin stood helpless at Arthur's side, gazing at him, at the line of his nose and cheekbone both illuminated by the streetlight. He was lost. 

Arthur made the leap that Merlin couldn't, because it was probably easier for him, because Arthur had piles of evidence all pointing to Merlin's feelings and all Merlin had was Arthur's gentle hold on his wrist. Arthur moved until he was lying pressed against the wall and tugged Merlin down with him, so they were face to face. Seeing Arthur like this, in the dark, on his bed while he was raw and open from stress and fatigue and already giving Merlin more than he dared to hope for, caught Merlin's heart in his throat and he couldn't do anything but take one shallow, shuddery breath. 

Arthur ran his hand up Merlin's arm, barely touching, and his fingers came to rest against Merlin's throat. Merlin swallowed a gasp, felt it move down against Arthur's fingers. "Are you going to say anything?" Arthur whispered. 

"Anything," said Merlin, and that startled a laugh out of Arthur, which in turn made Merlin chuckle and helped him out of his spell. Arthur shook his head against the pillow they shared, and he looked at Merlin with a perplexed little smile, like Merlin was an amusing mystery. 

Yeah, that's Merlin, super mysterious guy.

Watch him go. 

Arthur's eyes were soft and his mouth was curled up at one side, still smiling at Merlin, and he slid his hand from Merlin's throat to the back of his neck and, oh shit, gently pulled Merlin closer. 

Merlin knew what was happening, and he was not at all prepared. He wasn't prepared for Arthur's eyes sweeping down, to Merlin's lips, as Arthur licked his own, and when Merlin closed his eyes he wasn't prepared to feel Arthur's nose bump against his own, and he wasn't prepared for the fingers stroking through the hair at the nape of his neck. Merlin felt surrounded by Arthur, by the way he smelled like warmth by a fire, by the heat coming off of his body, by the unsteady breaths he was taking. 

Arthur left the smallest space between them. He was waiting. 

So Merlin let go of the last bit of fear he clung to, angled his head, and fit his lips to Arthur's in one sweet, soft kiss. And another. And another. And another, until they both started laughing, shaking with pure joy.

Merlin wrapped an arm around Arthur's waist to pull him closer, and spread his hand between Arthur's shoulder blades, to feel the rumble of his laughter. He moved in again to press his grin to the side of Arthur's mouth.

Arthur rested his forehead against Merlin's until they got the last of the giggles out, and then placed one hot kiss right under Merlin's ear. Merlin shivered, made a little "ah," which made Arthur do it again, which was taking Merlin down a path he was so not ready to go down, so Merlin moved back to catch Arthur's lips again, slow and lingering. Arthur got the hint and hummed, which Merlin felt all the way down to his toes. 

Arthur's lips were smooth and pillowy and Merlin absolutely adored the way they yielded to his own, not at all like Arthur's usual abrasiveness, but still Arthur all the same. When Arthur moaned, so quietly, and parted his lips to catch Merlin's lower one between them, Merlin lost himself and clutched hard at Arthur's t-shirt. Arthur seemed to like that, and when their tongues met and slid together, neither of them could hold back the hushed noises between them. 

They continued, tender and easy, learning each other in a new way, Arthur touching all of Merlin that he could get to and Merlin holding on for dear life, until Merlin remembered the reason for the night's adventures and pulled back with a little peck. An apology. "Arthur," he said, and his voice came out wrecked. Arthur looked endearingly confused and flushed, and tried to gather Merlin in again but Merlin stopped him by running both hand's through Arthur's hair in a soothing gesture. "Arthur, it's almost five in the morning. We're both exhausted. We have to sleep." 

Arthur leaned up for one last kiss, and Merlin was more than happy to give it. "Fine. Okay. But I'm not through with you, just so we're clear." 

"We're very clear," Merlin assured, and pressed his face between Arthur's shoulder and his neck. "Are you going to let me go, or would you rather us both try to sleep on this tiny-ass bed?" 

Arthur considered the bed, then Merlin, then the bed again and looked very disappointed. "There's not much room, is there?" he said. "You should probably go." 

Contrary to his words, Arthur did not release his hold. Merlin solemnly agreed, "Ok, I'll go," then pulled the blankets up and around both of them. 

He was just reaching Maximum Coziness when Arthur reached around Merlin for his phone, presumably to set an alarm to wake them up in a few hours. Merlin waited for him to settle down again, to make sure he actually got to sleep, when he suddenly felt Arthur tense up next to him. 

"Merlin," Arthur asked, impressively neutral. "What is this?" 

Merlin didn't even have to look. "It's a picture of you making a mess of yourself with cup noodles. Now shut up and let me sleep or I'll send it to Morgana." 

Arthur slapped the back of his head but it was a halfhearted effort. He laid his phone back on the bedside table and snuggled down into the covers, and whispered straight into Merlin's ear "I still have that picture of you crying in the middle of playing chubby bunny with Gwen. You watch your back, Merlin." 

Merlin had to hide his dopey grin in Arthur's pillow. Oh yeah, this was going to be good.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to write something with cup noodles in it. Hope it was cute!!


End file.
